


making a living ain't easy

by snarkymuch



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: And Passes Out, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Being Poor Isn't Easy, Financial Issues, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Malnutrition, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Tony Stark Coparenting Peter Parker, Peter Overworks Himself, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Skips Meals to Save Money, Sick Peter Parker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-19 11:07:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22176586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkymuch/pseuds/snarkymuch
Summary: Written for this prompt from Raffeale:May and Peter can't afford rent and food anymore. May broke her arm last week. Now, their main source of income is Peter's job, which takes place almost every hour where he isn't at school. Tony finds out after Peter refuses his invitation to come over for the third time in a row. Because of this, Peter keeps giving most of his food to May. Low blood sugar, super high metabolism, and being Spiderman doesn't really mix well (fainting). Protective Tony Stark, Hurt Peter Parker?
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 20
Kudos: 545
Collections: marvel fics that are marvelous





	making a living ain't easy

**Author's Note:**

> So this prompt has been in my wip folder for nearly a year. I am so sorry. Anyway. I took a stab at it today.

The alarm on Peter's phone went off, making him cringe and turn his head into the pillow. Reaching a hand out from the blankets, he patted around the side table until he found the source of the offending noise. After feeling around, he found the phone and fumbled it in his hand. Lifting his head, he eyed it just enough to make out the screen and slide the alarm off, dropping it on the bed beside him. He let his face fall back onto the pillow with a groan.

It was way too early to start another day.

The bed was soft and comfortable, his blankets keeping the chill off. Getting out of bed and facing another long day of work and school was the last thing he wanted to do. It felt like it had been weeks since he’d actually slept. He'd spent every waking hour stretching himself between work and school—even patrolling had taken a backseat.

Ever since May had broken her arm five weeks ago, money had become tight—more so than usual. She couldn't work her regular shifts with a broken arm, and her supervisor was giving her a hard time. She didn't have any sick time or personal days saved up either as she used a bunch last time Peter got hurt, something he felt guilty for. It was more reason he should step up and get a job to help make ends meet until she was better.

She'd argued at first, but when the fridge started to empty, and they only had cereal for dinner, she sighed and gave in. Mr. Delmar was quick to hire Peter, even going as far as slipping him a little extra at the end of the day to help them get by. Peter stammered, unsure and embarrassed, the first time the man had tucked a twenty into his pocket, but Mr. Delmar just smiled and told him not to worry about it and to take care of May.

Rubbing his eyes, he threw his blanket off and swung his legs out of bed. His stomach grumbled. He'd barely eaten dinner the night before, wanting to make sure there was enough for May. He'd been careful, so she didn’t notice him doing it, but he'd been limiting what he ate, so there was always enough for her.

Ruffling a hand through his hair, he glanced at the time on his phone. It was way too early to be up. If he didn't get moving soon, he wouldn't have time for a shower. He needed to stop sleeping so late.

Grabbing his clothes, he rushed off to the bathroom and began his day. Showered and dressed, Peter swung by the kitchen on the way out the door to grab a granola bar. He ate it in three bites as he headed out the door, shoving the wrapper in his pocket. It didn’t do much to quell his stomach, which still ached for more.

The day at school went quickly, but he relied on Ned to keep him awake, kicking his chair when his eyes started to drift closed. The long hours he’d been putting in were getting to him, along with the lack of nutrition, but there wasn’t much he could do. He didn’t want to worry May. It was his job to take care of her.

After school, Peter made his way to Delmar’s and started work, leaving his homework to do that night. He had his suit in his bag but hadn’t had a chance to patrol in days. He was lucky if he had time to sleep. As his shift was coming to a close, Peter’s phone dinged in his pocket. Yawning, he pulled it out and swiped his thumb across the screen. It was a text from Tony. Peter chewed his lip as he read it. Tony wanted him to come to the tower and work on his suit designs. Once, Peter would have been excited and chomping at the bit to go, but now he had responsibilities. He needed to work to keep food on the table. He couldn’t just take a day off to go play in the labs, no matter how much he wanted to do it. Sighing, Peter tapped out a reply, turning down Tony’s offer.

With a frown, he hit send and tucked his phone back in his pocket. This was the third time he’d had to turn him down, and Peter knew it wouldn’t be long before Tony started demanding answers. Peter didn’t want to tell him the truth, though. Tony was a billionaire. He wouldn’t understand what it was like to struggle, and Peter didn’t want charity. He’d rather work for his money. He feared if Tony found out what was going on, he’d do something extreme like buying their apartment building, so they didn’t need to pay rent.

A little wave of dizziness passed through Peter as he cleaned up the food prep area. His fingers gripped the counter to keep his balance. He didn’t need to be a doctor to know that his metabolism was his worst enemy right now. As he put away the meat, his stomach rumbled, and the hollow ache gnawed at him. He wished he could eat, but the one sandwich he was allowed a day from Mr. Delmar, he brought home for May. He didn’t tell her how hungry he was, but it was worth it. It always made her smile, and it was one less thing for her to worry about. When Peter got home, he could make some Ramen noodles.

After saying goodnight to Mr. Delmar, Peter began his trek back to his apartment. While he was walking, his phone rang, and expecting May, he picked it up without looking, bringing it to his ear.

“I’m on my way home.”

It wasn’t May who responded, though. It was Tony. “Where are you?”

“Oh, uh, hey, Mr. Stark. Is there a mission or something?”

“No mission, kid. Just wondering what’s up. Why are you out so late on a school night and not in your suit?”

Peter swallowed. “Um, just some stuff came up.”

“What kind of stuff?”

“You know, regular stuff.”

“Regular stuff,” Tony repeated. “Kid, you’re a terrible liar. You’ve canceled on me three times now, you’re out when you should be home, call me concerned, but I’m getting a little worried. Are you on drugs?”

“What? No!”

“Then what’s going on? I’ve checked with Karen. You’ve barely been in your suit. Is it school? Because I checked that, too, and your grades aren’t looking so hot lately.”

“You can’t just—”

“I can, and I did. Tell you what. You’re on your way home, right?”

Peter crossed the street. He was nearly there. “Uh, yeah, I should be there soon.”

“Good. I’m on my way.”

“Wait, Mr. Stark—” But the call was disconnected.

“Shit,” Peter cursed, hurrying his pace. He needed to get home, come up with a plan.

If Tony talked to May, he’d figure out what was going on, and then he’d give Peter that look, that sad, tired expression that hinted at disappointed. He was going to want to know why Peter didn’t come to him, and Peter really didn’t know why. If he really thought about it, he was embarrassed. He didn’t like being poor and having Tony in his apartment in his expensive shoes would just be a stark reminder of how different they were. Peter didn’t want charity, and he didn’t want people to worry. He could handle it. He was handling it. His extra job was making ends meet, and May went to bed with a full stomach. It didn’t matter if he was a little hungry or tired. He’d survive.

When he got home, he unlocked the door and stepped inside. He figured he had some time before Tony got there to talk to May, but as he turned to the kitchen to look for his aunt, he saw Tony at the table, sipping a coffee. May sat across from him, broken arm resting in the sling and coffee in her other hand. Tony turned to look at him, dragging his gaze over his face. They hadn’t seen each other in weeks, and Peter was sure Tony was noting the changes, the thinner cheeks, the bags under his eyes.

May cleared her throat. “Why don’t you come sit, Peter. I think there are some things we need to talk about.”

Tony tipped his head toward the vacant chair.

Peter drew his bottom lip between his teeth, gaze flicking between them before he dropped his shoulders and took a seat. He set his bag on the floor beside him, opening it and pulling out the sandwich he made for May. He placed it on the table in front of her, earning a watery smile. She put her hand over his, rubbing her thumb back and forth.

“Your hearts too big for your own good, you know that?”

Peter looked down at their hands and then to Tony. “What’s going on?”

May looked at Tony and sighed. They seemed to have a silent conversation that ended with May nodding.

Tony cleared his throat, setting his coffee down. “So, I came by to talk to your aunt and see you in person. I’ll admit I was worried, and after talking with her, I can’t say I feel much better.”

Peter’s brow wrinkled. “What? There’s nothing wrong. Everything’s fine.”

Tony’s head tilted to the side, and he let out a heavy breath through his nose. He glanced at May. “After I promised not to do anything extreme, your aunt told me what’s going on—that she’s out of work.”

Peter averted his eyes, shrugging a shoulder. “I have everything under control.”

May squeezed his hand. “Peter, you didn’t tell me your grades were slipping.”

He shook his head. “It’s no big deal. I’ll bring them up.”

Tony leaned his elbows on the table. “I have my suspicions, but I’m going to ask, and I want the truth. Are you taking care of yourself like you should?”

Peter physically drew back in his seat. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

May pressed her lips together. “Peter, you’ve been bringing me sandwiches from work, barely eating yourself, and I never thought.” She looked away for a moment before turning back to him. “Are you giving me your food?”

“I don’t need it.”

“That’s not what Tony says. He told me about your metabolism, and now that I’m thinking back, I can’t forgive myself for letting this go on for as long as I did.”

He shook his head, tears pricking his eyes. He blinked them away. He couldn’t let May blame herself. “I’m fine—really. It’s my job to take care of you.”

“No, Peter, you’ve got it backwards. I take care of you.”

Peter was angry at himself, at Tony, at the situation. He glared at Tony, needing someone to blame. “You had no right!”

“Kid—”

Peter shook his head, pushing back his chair and standing. The room tipped, and a few spots danced in his vision. He squeezed his eyes shut and gripped the table. When the feeling passed, he grabbed his bag and stormed to his room. He could hear Tony and May calling after him, but he didn’t listen. He didn’t know who he was mad at, and part of him knew Tony didn’t deserve his anger, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. The weeks of exhaustion and starvation were getting to him.

He slammed his bedroom door shut and threw his bag at the wall. Tears were rolling down his cheeks, and he swiped at them angrily. The room tilted again, but he breathed through it. He didn’t want to be there. He grabbed his suit from his bag and threw it on, slipping from the window.

It was late, and he was tired, the kind of tired that you feel deep in your bones. It had been nearly two hours since he left, and he was surprised he hadn’t heard from Tony or May. His stomach was a constant, nagging ache, and he was beginning to feel shaky and weak. Karen chimed in to tell him his blood sugar was low, but he ignored her and pressed on.

He found a rooftop on the edge of Queens that looked comfortable, though any flat surface was inviting. With as tired and sick as he felt, he could sleep anywhere. He found a spot on the ledge and laid down, one leg out and the other up. The building felt like it was swaying beneath him. His hunger had turned to nausea. He wasn’t feeling well at all. Karen warned him again, but the words felt distant. He drifted, memories of the day colliding and turning into twisted dreams.

He dreamt he was being held, carried. It felt so real. Air rushed past him like he was flying. He felt safe, though, like there were arms around him, protecting him from the world. He forgot about his problems and enjoyed the feeling.

When he woke, he wasn’t on the rooftop. He was in a bed, and as he blinked, taking in the room, he realized he was in the medbay of the tower. He moved his hands and felt the pull of an IV. He scowled at it like it had personally offended him. The sounds of someone’s soft snores made him turn his head. Confusion touched his brow when he saw Tony slumped in the chair next to him.

Peter shifted in the bed, noting he didn’t feel as sick as before, and the room no longer spun when he moved. The bed creaked, and it was enough to make Tony stir. Peter watched him as he woke. The moment he saw Peter’s eyes on him, he brightened, pushing to his feet and coming to stand beside the bed.

“How are you feeling?”

Peter looked at him, remember the last time they spoke. He wasn’t angry anymore, but he felt guilty for how he acted. “You’re not mad?”

Tony sighed. “Am I mad? That’s a loaded question. I get why you were upset, but I’m not happy how you handled things, and I’m especially not happy about you blowing off Karen’s warnings and not getting help.”

Peter looked down at his hands, not brave enough to meet Tony’s gaze. “I didn’t want you to worry. I didn’t want anyone to worry.”

“When you stopped coming by, I started digging into what might be going on. I checked the logs from the few times you’d worn the suit. I could see your health declining. Honestly, I thought it was drugs.”

“I’d never—”

Tony put up a hand. “I know, but I was worried. You were losing weight, muscle mass. That’s not good, Pete. When you canceled again, I knew I needed to do something, so I went to May. After talking to her, I had a pretty good idea what was going on. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because it’s embarrassing, okay?”

“What is?”

“Being poor, not having enough food. You wouldn’t understand.”

Tony held a hand over Peter’s for a moment before letting it rest on his. He took a breath. “You’re right. I don’t understand what’s it like first-hand, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care—that I wouldn’t want to help.”

Peter looked up at him. “I don’t want you to have to take care of me. Making sure May and I are okay, that’s on me.”

“Peter, you heard your aunt. It’s her job to look out for you—it’s both of our jobs. We talked about it while you were passing out on a roof.”

“You don’t understand. It’s my fault we’re poor.”

Tony shook his head. “It’s really not, though.”

“No, it is. If I hadn’t let Ben die, May wouldn’t have to work so hard. She wouldn’t be alone.”

Tony squeezed his hand. “Kid, that’s not how it works. You can’t blame yourself for that.”

Tears pricked at his eyes, and he looked away. He would always blame himself. “So, what happens now?”

“We figure this out together.”

Peter’s lips twitched. “You can’t buy our apartment building.”

Tony laughed. “I already promised May I wouldn’t, but maybe I could start by paying you, like an actual intern.”

Peter looked at him. “You’d do that?”

Tony smiled. “I’d move you into the tower if I could. Paying you is the least I can do.”

Peter picked at the tape, holding the IV in place. “That’s—thanks, Mr. Stark.”

“You’re welcome, kid. Just promise to keep me in the loop next time, so we can avoid the dramatics. I don’t need more gray hair.”

Peter sniffled, and Tony passed him a tissue. “I’ll see what I can do.” He laughed.

Tony ruffled his hair. “I think we should get some food in you. There’s only some much an IV can do.”

Tony called Friday to have some food brought in, and a few minutes later, Peter was eating, the ache in his stomach fading for the first time in weeks. He still felt the world on his shoulders, but maybe it weighed a little less now.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm open for prompts, so if you have ideas, send them my way. Either here or on tumblr. [find me on tumblr](https://snarky-drabbles.tumblr.com/)


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